


Warmth

by silkinsilence



Series: Moicy Week 2019 [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Moicy Week, Moicy Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21799957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkinsilence/pseuds/silkinsilence
Summary: ‍Angela always wishes Moira would stay for the afterglow, until she does.‍
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: Moicy Week 2019 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566913
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> For Moicy Week Day 5: Trust/Betrayal.

In winter, the dormitories were uniformly freezing. The laboratory was always heated well enough, and her office and the medbay kept warm, but when Angela finally left her work for bed, she could almost feel the change in temperatures as she climbed downstairs to the wing of the base that housed living quarters.

Overwatch employed the brightest minds from around the world and was carving out frontiers in medical and military technology alike, but a working heating and cooling system was beyond it.

She spent most nights curled into a small ball, her head under the comforter.

Having another person there made a world of difference.

The beds in the dorm rooms were not intended to fit two people, but they were pressed so closely together that they fit perfectly well. Angela was on her side, facing the wall, her back curled against the warm body spooning her. Moira’s arm was hooked around her waist and their legs were tangled together. Her other hand was stroking Angela’s neck and scalp, playing with her hair.

It was so comfortable, so peaceful, that Angela was afraid to say anything. If she let her mouth open and words come out, she would say the wrong thing. Something soft would become something sharp and painful.

They never cuddled. She had been under the impression that Moira didn’t like it. Whenever she invited Moira into her bed, even those occasions when their _play_ lasted for long scads of time, she left when they were done fucking. 

But not tonight.

It wouldn’t, couldn’t, last forever. The warmth of a body against her own, the safety of an arm around her and another being breathing in and out with her, was the most tenuous thing in the world. Even now she was dreading its absence, feeling the heavy weight of anticipation for loneliness to take its place again.

Moira was the one to break the silence. It felt as if she was lifting a spell, taking them back to the traversable realms of familiarity and experience.

“Have you ever cut your hair?” she asked. Her fingers were playing with a strand, winding it around her fingers. It felt good.

“What? Of course. I went just a month ago—”

“Short. Very short.”

“Oh. No. I’m not brave enough for that,” she said, offering a laugh, and noticing the way Moira’s hand tightened on her hip. “Why?”

“I slept with a woman who asked me if I’d think about growing mine out.”

Angela couldn’t see Moira’s face, given their positions in the bed, but her voice sounded conversational, as if this was ordinary pillow talk. 

She didn’t like hearing Moira talk about...other people. A stupid, irrational jealousy, considering that their trysts could hardly be called a  _relationship._ But especially now, with Moira’s arms around her, she wanted to imagine that she was special.

“And you said no?”

“I said I would think about it. She wanted me to shave, too, and I did.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Because I liked her and I thought she liked me. Haven’t you ever been in a relationship like that?”

Angela said nothing. The hollow feeling intensified, as if a wall was slowly erecting itself between her back and the soft warmth of Moira’s breasts and stomach pressed against her.

She was ashamed to tell the truth. Her life had consisted of little more than a singular dedication to her career. Other people made the most sense to her when they were just muscles and body parts, unconscious on her operating table. She was unsure that she’d ever really been in what could be called a relationship.

“Of course, she didn’t really like me much, aside from as a piece of meat. Perhaps you and she would get along in that regard.”

It was like being punched in the stomach. Angela tried to curl in on herself, but there was nowhere to go. She wanted to defend herself, but there was nothing to say. Moira still sounded so conversational.

“Did you stay,” she mumbled into her pillow, feeling hot tears spring to life at the corners of her eyes, “so you could throw that at me?”

“No.”

Silence. Infinitely less comfortable than before. Angela waited, miserable, with a widening hole in her stomach, remembering all the things she hated about Moira, and all the things she hated about—

“I’m sorry,” Moira said. Her tone was different now. Clipped.

The warmth was gone from Angela’s side. She twisted around to see that Moira was sitting up at the edge of the bed. Her bare back looked so vulnerable in the cold darkness. She was so angular, all sharp lines and points. Angela wanted to say there was no softness to her, but there was. It was just difficult to find, and more difficult to hold onto.

“I’m not suited for this,” Moira continued. “I forgot. I shouldn’t take my failings out on you, Doctor Ziegler.”

The formality felt like another punch. Angela curled into a ball, trying to preserve the feeling of the warmth on her sheets, the warmth of a body lying next to her.

“I’m sorry too,” she murmured.

Moira shot her a look over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. Goosebumps had already risen on her skin in the cold air. She stood, and bent over to retrieve her clothes from the floor.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other soon enough,” she said when she was dressed, her words sounding so final despite their meaning. She left Angela’s room without waiting for a response.

Angela let herself cry, then, and she rolled over to smell the space that Moira had occupied. She held the scent for as long as she could until her nose was running and her vision was blurred, and then she couldn’t smell anything at all any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always greatly appreciated!


End file.
